When the sun hung a bit lower in the sky, the party broke to collect themselves. The nameless stranger seemed to have puked near 2/3 of her body mass throughout the course of the day. So it was rest for her. Alice hummed to herself as she rifled through her supplies for some food to prepare. Miles went off to do what The Librarian assumed he did best, loot dead bodies. Not that she could judge, she had acquired a few pints of water from one of the corpses. But, she certainly didn’t get greedy or take any sort of joy from it.
She watched Miles as he crouched and rifled through each of the surrounding deceased, flipping the bodies and leaving them in . He looked like some sort of weasel or vulture, hovering over its prey and picking at the remains. Occasionally a whistle or an “Oh Boy!” would interrupt his pensive search upon the recovery of an object. The way he carried on you’d think he’d just found a rare gem. The Librarian realized the hypocriticalness of what she was thinking, after all what was her job but to scour ruins of lost treasures. But she rarely came across bodies themselves and in the few times she did she never disrespected them the way he was currently. Hell, they were probably the only people The Librarian could encounter without anxiety. As she’d explore the glorious shelves and corridors, she’d imagine the people in their past lives. Browsing the very shelves, reading, discussing art, and learning. That thought was enough to give them respect. They’d been the lucky ones. They lived the lives she’d always wanted for herself and Sonia, ones of enlightenment.
She decided to sit and read a bit to cheer herself up. She rifled through her weathered leather satchel and pulled out a worn and earthy smelling book, hard cover with loosened spine and yellowing pages. She opened it to reveal large and bold cursive scrawl that read, “To Kill A Mockingbird.” She read until she was interrupted by the little girl.
“Libby, do you have any water?” Alice asked pleadingly.
The Librarian snapped her book shut, a bit annoyed, and sighed. “Yes. Hold on.”
She reached behind her back into her pack and released one of the liters she recovered into Alice’s grip. “There.” She quickly stated before pushing her face back behind her text, hoping that it would hide her somehow.
Luckily Alice simply thanked her and went back about her business. Unfortunately, she barely had time to read a sentence before she was interrupted yet again. A slumping, careless hand rapped at her knee.
The Librarian slammed her book down into her lap and glared at the disturbing individual. It was a glassy eyed, somewhat puce stranger. Clearing her gummy mouth out a bit she croaked at The Librarian.
“Uhhh –EEEHHHHCKK- ‘scuse me, uh, do you think you could help me look for my gun. One of the Crawleys took it and- AAHHHHGGCCCK- ‘scuse me again, I think it might be one of them.” She cleared her mucus-plastered throat once again, pointing to the dead men.
Stemming partly from a kindred love of firearms and partly from the divine providence that she hadn’t been puked on, she decided to help the foul-smelling woman. The Librarian sighed breathily and put her book away. “Sure.” She set the book away and hoisted the immobile, malfunctioning human being from under her rank armpit, allowing her to walk.
The two stumbled in near silence. Probably, The Librarian assumed, because the woman still lacked the ability to put coherent thought together. As the search went on, appearing fruitless the only exchange of dialogue the two older women shared were the occasional stuffed up mumble from the woman and the quiet musings of The Librarian as she asked this "Sarah" what it was again that had made her so worth saving. Just before the two got into it, they came upon a corpse with the promised weapon.
Arabella seemed happy enough to weep. She lurched off the support of The Librarian to reach over for the gun, only to misjudge her coordination and flat on her face. With her companion face down in the dirt, The Librarian stared down into the back of the fallen woman's head, and contemplated heading back toward the rest of the party and simply responding, ‘Sarah Who? Never met the girl,’ to any possible inquiries to the pitiful woman’s whereabouts. But in the end she relinquished to her better nature and pulled the rank woman up, clutching at her rifle, to her feet.
Walking back, The Librarian took a glimpse of the weapon, widening her eyes.
“That’s quite a weapon you have there!” She exclaimed, her tone surprising the groggy woman out of her blissed out stupor, and even herself.
“Uh, yeah. I bought it back in town. In the market. Really glad, ya know, to have it back. I. I just need it bad is all.” The weary woman answered in a mumble, peering back sheepishly at her feet.
The Librarian nodded, “I know what you mean, I was unfortunate enough to have one of mine stolen by that wretch back in town.
“Ugh, no way.” Arabella said in dismay, this time with more conviction. “I fogot. I mean, that is- I knew you lost something just couldn’t remember. The woman blinked continuously. She seemed to really be trying to put herself into conversation despite her brain’s fogginess. The Librarian appreciated it. The two continued to discuss their firearms, cleaning, shooting, and smithing techniques as they walked back to camp.
“It’s not like I enjoy shooting people. Hate it. It’s why I left the arm- or ya know, stopped shooting people. But there’s something about a gun, right?” Arabella spoke passionately with vigor. “That gives ya.. no not power… control! Yeah, control over your own life. Makes ya feel like you’ve got a hand in your own destiny. These days that’s a rare feeling.”
The Librarian hoisted the woman higher up on her own body, trying to make the walk back a bit easier on the woman. “Yes,” she said, in a serious tone, nodding in agreement, somewhat shocked by the woman’s honesty and astuteness. “That is rare these days.”
She turned to look ahead, unsure how to approach the woman she had judged so harshly earlier. She could see Miles sharpening his swords and Alice buzzing about a makeshift kitchen. The young girl looked up and waved the two women down excitedly.
“Looks like food is ready.” The Librarian stated, the delicious smell of fried potatoes in butter filling her nose. “Let’s go get some, shall we.”
She watched Miles as he crouched and rifled through each of the surrounding deceased, flipping the bodies and leaving them in . He looked like some sort of weasel or vulture, hovering over its prey and picking at the remains. Occasionally a whistle or an “Oh Boy!” would interrupt his pensive search upon the recovery of an object. The way he carried on you’d think he’d just found a rare gem. The Librarian realized the hypocriticalness of what she was thinking, after all what was her job but to scour ruins of lost treasures. But she rarely came across bodies themselves and in the few times she did she never disrespected them the way he was currently. Hell, they were probably the only people The Librarian could encounter without anxiety. As she’d explore the glorious shelves and corridors, she’d imagine the people in their past lives. Browsing the very shelves, reading, discussing art, and learning. That thought was enough to give them respect. They’d been the lucky ones. They lived the lives she’d always wanted for herself and Sonia, ones of enlightenment.
She decided to sit and read a bit to cheer herself up. She rifled through her weathered leather satchel and pulled out a worn and earthy smelling book, hard cover with loosened spine and yellowing pages. She opened it to reveal large and bold cursive scrawl that read, “To Kill A Mockingbird.” She read until she was interrupted by the little girl.
“Libby, do you have any water?” Alice asked pleadingly.
The Librarian snapped her book shut, a bit annoyed, and sighed. “Yes. Hold on.”
She reached behind her back into her pack and released one of the liters she recovered into Alice’s grip. “There.” She quickly stated before pushing her face back behind her text, hoping that it would hide her somehow.
Luckily Alice simply thanked her and went back about her business. Unfortunately, she barely had time to read a sentence before she was interrupted yet again. A slumping, careless hand rapped at her knee.
The Librarian slammed her book down into her lap and glared at the disturbing individual. It was a glassy eyed, somewhat puce stranger. Clearing her gummy mouth out a bit she croaked at The Librarian.
“Uhhh –EEEHHHHCKK- ‘scuse me, uh, do you think you could help me look for my gun. One of the Crawleys took it and- AAHHHHGGCCCK- ‘scuse me again, I think it might be one of them.” She cleared her mucus-plastered throat once again, pointing to the dead men.
Stemming partly from a kindred love of firearms and partly from the divine providence that she hadn’t been puked on, she decided to help the foul-smelling woman. The Librarian sighed breathily and put her book away. “Sure.” She set the book away and hoisted the immobile, malfunctioning human being from under her rank armpit, allowing her to walk.
The two stumbled in near silence. Probably, The Librarian assumed, because the woman still lacked the ability to put coherent thought together. As the search went on, appearing fruitless the only exchange of dialogue the two older women shared were the occasional stuffed up mumble from the woman and the quiet musings of The Librarian as she asked this "Sarah" what it was again that had made her so worth saving. Just before the two got into it, they came upon a corpse with the promised weapon.
Arabella seemed happy enough to weep. She lurched off the support of The Librarian to reach over for the gun, only to misjudge her coordination and flat on her face. With her companion face down in the dirt, The Librarian stared down into the back of the fallen woman's head, and contemplated heading back toward the rest of the party and simply responding, ‘Sarah Who? Never met the girl,’ to any possible inquiries to the pitiful woman’s whereabouts. But in the end she relinquished to her better nature and pulled the rank woman up, clutching at her rifle, to her feet.
Walking back, The Librarian took a glimpse of the weapon, widening her eyes.
“That’s quite a weapon you have there!” She exclaimed, her tone surprising the groggy woman out of her blissed out stupor, and even herself.
“Uh, yeah. I bought it back in town. In the market. Really glad, ya know, to have it back. I. I just need it bad is all.” The weary woman answered in a mumble, peering back sheepishly at her feet.
The Librarian nodded, “I know what you mean, I was unfortunate enough to have one of mine stolen by that wretch back in town.
“Ugh, no way.” Arabella said in dismay, this time with more conviction. “I fogot. I mean, that is- I knew you lost something just couldn’t remember. The woman blinked continuously. She seemed to really be trying to put herself into conversation despite her brain’s fogginess. The Librarian appreciated it. The two continued to discuss their firearms, cleaning, shooting, and smithing techniques as they walked back to camp.
“It’s not like I enjoy shooting people. Hate it. It’s why I left the arm- or ya know, stopped shooting people. But there’s something about a gun, right?” Arabella spoke passionately with vigor. “That gives ya.. no not power… control! Yeah, control over your own life. Makes ya feel like you’ve got a hand in your own destiny. These days that’s a rare feeling.”
The Librarian hoisted the woman higher up on her own body, trying to make the walk back a bit easier on the woman. “Yes,” she said, in a serious tone, nodding in agreement, somewhat shocked by the woman’s honesty and astuteness. “That is rare these days.”
She turned to look ahead, unsure how to approach the woman she had judged so harshly earlier. She could see Miles sharpening his swords and Alice buzzing about a makeshift kitchen. The young girl looked up and waved the two women down excitedly.
“Looks like food is ready.” The Librarian stated, the delicious smell of fried potatoes in butter filling her nose. “Let’s go get some, shall we.”